


Lipstick Kisses For Your Soulmate

by LadySheik



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: And suffer from crippling doubt about my fluff, Because I have no problems writing angst, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, I'm posting this before I can reconsider, MC is an OC, Soulmate AU, no betas no spell check we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 01:27:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20857958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySheik/pseuds/LadySheik
Summary: For ten years, Jumin has woken up to a lipstick stain on the inside of his wrist. Every day, without fail. In a moment of impaired (inebriated) judgement, Jumin does what he swore he would never do: he writes back.





	Lipstick Kisses For Your Soulmate

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so I know this is twice in one day that I've posted but I'm a coward about my fluff and I just want this piece to be done so there's gonna be grammar issues and I'm not sorry

It was the same shade of lipstick every morning. It appeared that she had a favorite.

Who, Jumin couldn’t say for certain. After all, they had never met. But each morning, since he had turned fifteen, he had woken up to words scrawled on his right hand, trailing down his forearm. Little smiley faces, tiny hearts, little words and phrases of endearment and encouragement. Always accompanied by kiss marks in a deep burgundy color.

For over ten years, it had been the same shade. Jumin couldn’t say that he had a favorite color, but if he were ever pressed, that was the color he would name. Like wine, but a little more red, a little less purple.

When it had first started, Jumin had been worried. Mostly for his health, since the only explanation was that he had done it to himself. But he was right handed, and the writing was on his right arm, and it was most certainly _not _his handwriting.

The idea that it might be his soulmate had never occurred to him.

His father didn’t have a soulmate. Neither had his mother. It was uncommon, but certainly not unheard of. Jumin had always known, of course, that it was more likely than not that he had a soulmate. But no evidence had ever shown itself, and he was not the sort of man who was inclined to indulge in whimsical fantasies, especially when reality had proved to him time and again that women were flighty, temperamental, and often cared more for his money than for him. But when he had brought it up to his father, the chairman had simply told him that it was his soulmate, and that Jumin was a very lucky young man. Jumin did not feel very lucky, certainly not if she was like all the women his father brought home, and sometimes even married.

This was perhaps a bit unfair to his soulmate. She could not have possibly known who he was. But he was busy, and again, not a man to entertain indulgent fantasies, and so he did what he thought was best: he ignored her.

She would find someone else, he told himself whenever the twinges of guilt would start to build up in his chest. Someone else would find her and love her, regardless of whether she had a soulmate, and one morning he would wake up and there would be no lipstick kisses, no sweet notes or details of her day.

He would miss it, he supposed. But it was for the best.

It had been a long day. Flights cancelled, meetings rescheduled, projects pushed back. He was a frustrated mess when he got home, throwing his jacket to the floor of his closet and loosening his tie as the day’s events swirled past him. Elizabeth the Third wound around his legs, meowing up at him, but not even her regal presence could calm him. Just looking at the cat reminded him of Rika, and how happy she was with V, reminded him of the aching loneliness he barely kept at bay. He wasn’t sure how much more stress he could bear.

The wine made it easier, that was certain. A bottle and a half went a long way to easing the pain and frustration. It also went a long way to loosening his inhibitions.

He sprawled back on his bed, wearing only his white cotton undershirt, and toyed with the pen in his hand. There hadn’t been any notes that morning. There had been a kiss, though, one that was now smudged but still visible on the inside of his wrist. He rubbed at it with one thumb, booze-addled mind toying with what to say.

Jumin decided to start simple.

_You didn’t leave any notes this morning._

He let the pen drop onto his chest and watched his left arm with narrowed eyes, wondering if she would respond. After all, it had been almost eleven years, and he hadn’t written a word to her. Nothing to acknowledge that he existed, or that he saw her notes. She would be well within her purview to be angry at him.

He let his arm fall and rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he was up for an argument, and he was certainly in no shape to win one.

He had almost fallen asleep when he felt a slight tingle in his arm, not unlike pins and needles. He lifted his left arm before he remembered that his soulmate was left-handed, then lifted the arm the sensation was emanating from.

_I was late for work!!!_

It was accompanied a moment later by a very artistic doodle of a girl with a braid panicking. He laughed, surprised, before picking his pen back up and writing back.

_I hope your day was better than mine._

A pause, then another message.

_It was pretty good, I think! The library was busy today, and we had a lot of attendance at our program. We taught people how to make their own bath bombs. I filled mine with glitter and made it purple and blue. Mermaid vibes, you know?_

A small mermaid with a seashell bra and sparkles around her appeared next to the long script that ran from his wrist to his elbow. He flipped his arm over when he felt pins and needles on the outside of his arm.

_Did you have a bad day? I’m sorry._

The same doodle with a braid from before took shape, a sad frown on her face as she wrung her hands.

_Not bad so much as inconvenient_, he wrote back. _It seems as though nothing will go to plan today. _

_That really sucks. I’m sorry. _

A pause. Then, _If you tell me where you live, I’ll bring by one of my bath bombs to help you relax!!!_

He stared at the words, incredulous. She didn’t even _know _him, but she was offering to come to his house, at night, to give him bathing accessories?

The words started to smear and fade away. He assumed she was washing them off to make more room. He toyed with his words for a minute before writing back.

_Unfortunately, I’m more than a little inebriated, and an unmarried woman visiting a man’s house in the dead of night isn’t proper, and most certainly isn’t safe. _

There was a long stretch of time without a response, and Jumin wondered if he said something wrong. He was just about to write a follow up inquiry when his arm started to tingle again.

_I guess you’re probably right_. The girl with the braid appeared again, stroke by stroke, with blushing cheeks and an embarrassed expression. _I didn’t think about it like that… Some other time, then!_

Jumin smiled, and he was writing out the words before he could think about it. _Some other time sounds wonderful. Perhaps we can arrange to meet. _

An excited version of the girl appeared. _Yes! That would be wonderful! I’d love to talk more but I have work tomorrow… Goodnight!_

He penned a goodnight back to her before falling asleep fully clothed.

He brushed his teeth angrily. It wasn’t until this moment that he realized it was possible to do so. A dark lipstick kiss stared at him from the back of his wrist, and he glowered at his reflection.

He was stupid. How could he have written to her? _Why_ had he written to her?

And not only had he written to her, he had proposed that they meet. Which couldn’t happen, under any circumstances. No, she would discover that he was Jumin Han, heir to C&R, and everything would go down the drain from there. All that would matter to her was his fame and his money, and he would be just the same as his father.

This morning’s kiss had been accompanied by a message: _Hope today goes better for you! And if you’re looking for something to read, we have a really neat summer reading program this year! You could stop by the Seoul Public library before we close at six. If you do, just ask for Emiko._

It was again accompanied by the doodle of a girl with a braid. This time, she was waving.

Jumin stuffed his toothbrush in his mouth and rolled up his sleeve. He turned on the tap, stuck his arm under the hot water, and scrubbed until the words and the lipstick were both gone, leaving nothing but a gray film behind.

He spat his toothpaste in the sink and grabbed his jacket, heading for the door. He had a lot of work to make up.

Jumin had never accomplished this much in one day. By the time three o’ clock rolled around, he had already made up all of the work that hadn’t been done yesterday, and most of today’s work as well. But no matter how much work he got done, the idea of meeting the person who had been leaving lipstick kisses for him every morning for over a decade wouldn’t leave his head.

His mouth twisted into a scowl as he stared down at his paperwork. It was like Pandora’s box. Now that it was open, he couldn’t shut it.

He threw his pen down in disgust and drummed his fingers on his desk. He wanted to go. He wanted so badly to go. Just to see what this Emiko looked like. He didn’t have to even speak to her. Just to get a look at who he was talking to.

His phone was out of his pocket a minute later, fingers dialing an old familiar number. After two rings, it picked up.

“Hello, Jumin.” V sounded happy, content.

“I’ve made a mistake.” Jumin leaned back in his chair and ran his hands over his face and up through his hair.

“Oh?” His friend didn’t sound particularly concerned.

“I wrote back.”

There was a silence. “Oh.” V’s tone was filled with comprehension, and Jumin could picture him leaning forward in his chair. “How did it go?”

“It was…” Jumin pursed his lips, crossing one arm across his chest. “It was nice. Very nice.”

“That’s good,” V replied tentatively. “Anything else?”

Jumin sighed, turning in his chair to look out the window. “She invited me to come to the library where she works. She said there was a summer reading program, and that I could pick out a book.”

“Do you even have a library card?”

Jumin paused. The thought hadn’t occurred to him. “One moment.” He moved his cellphone to his shoulder and picked up his desk phone, dialing an extension. The other line picked up before the first ring had finished.

“Yes, Mr. Han?”

“Assistant Kang, do I have a library card?”

There was a long pause. “I… I don’t think you do, Mr. Han.”

“Thank you.” Jumin hung up the phone and placed his cell to his ear again. “I don’t think I do, no.”

V hummed on the other end of the line. “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

Jumin tapped his fingers on the mahogany desk. “Your tone implies that you think I’m going to do something.”

His friend laughs. “Jumin, you’ve never sat back and let things happen to you in your life.”

He pursed his lips, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “What do you think I should do?”

There was a pause before V spoke. “I think you should go meet her.”

Jumin raised an eyebrow. “You do.”

“Jumin, she’s your _soulmate_. She’s been leaving unreturned kisses and messages for ten years. She probably gave up hope that she even had a soulmate _years_ ago. At the very least, she deserves to meet you. The best-case scenario is that you might even fall in love.”

Memories of all his father’s girlfriends and wives flashed through his mind. They left behind a sour taste in his mouth. “Unlikely.”

V sighed. “Well, you don’t have anything to lose by showing up. Oh, one second.” There was a muffled conversation on the other end of the line before V returned to the phone. “Sorry about this, but Rika and I have dinner reservations, so I have to let you go. Let me know what you decide on doing.”

“Thank you, V. Have a good evening.”

“You too.”

The line went dead and Jumin set the phone on his desk. He sat in pensive silence for several minutes before he dialed Jaehee’s extension.

“Assistant Kang, please put all your assignments on hold. I need you to come shopping with me.”

Jumin Han was not wearing a suit, and he was extremely uncomfortable.

Jaehee had assured him that he looked normal, but that didn’t ease his discomfort. It wasn’t that the fabric didn’t feel good (it didn’t) or that the style wasn’t flattering (it was), but something about the outfit was off. Like diagonal stripes on a tie. He hated it.

Driver Kim pulled into a parking spot and turned the car off. The divider opened, and Jumin looked up to see the familiar face. It brought him a small measure of comfort.

“We’re here, Mr. Han.”

Jumin nodded. He took a deep breath and ran his hands down his pants, smoothing out any wrinkles. “Thank you. I don’t know how long I’ll be.” With that, he opened the door and strode towards the doors.

The lobby was nearly empty, as was the area by the desk. Jumin wondered if that was unusual.

It was the smell that hit him first. A dry scent, not unpleasant, but unplaceable. He couldn’t decide if he liked it. A circular desk stood to his right, with a librarian sitting in front of a computer and scanning in books. Beyond the desk was an open sitting area, and beyond that were shelves and shelves of books.

Jumin decided he liked it immensely.

He walked over to the front desk, and the librarian smiled up at him. “Hello! How can I help?”

Jumin took a deep breath.

Then another.

“I’m looking for Emiko? She told me to ask for her when she got there.”

The librarian nodded, standing from her chair. “Who should I say is asking for her?”

Another deep breath. “Her soulmate.” Jumin’s voice was soft, like he was afraid to admit it. And maybe he was.

Her eyes widened. “Oh. _Oh._ Okay. Right. Let me go get her.” She was gone a second later, disappearing around a corner and presumably into a back room.

Jumin waited, hands clasped behind his back, and looked around. A few people sat at computer terminals that had been blocked from his view when he entered. From where he stood, he could see a couple people perusing the stacks. A young boy, arms piled high with books, ran around the counter and set them in front of the computer where the other librarian had just been sitting.

She reappeared, followed by a young woman with blonde hair tied in a braid and hanging over her shoulder, just like in the doodles. The first librarian moved to help the little boy, and Emiko came to stand in front of the other computer.

Jumin stepped up. “You must be Emiko.” He gave a slight bow. “My name is Jumin.”

She laughed, but it had a nervous edge to it. “Um, yeah. I mean, yes. I mean-” She closed her eyes and let out a sharp breath, laughing self-consciously. “My name is Emily. I go by Emiko because it’s easier to pronounce.”

“American?” he asked. It was more to make conversation than anything else – her accent was very distinct, and the way her mouth pulled wide was the undeniable characteristic of an English speaker.

She nodded, running one hand up and down her forearm. “Yes.”

They lapsed into an awkward silence. What was he supposed to say? He wished with the desperation of a dying man that he hadn’t jumped straight into this. He was so careful, so meticulous. He had everything planned.

Everything but this.

Emiko began to walk away, and Jumin panicked for half of a second before realizing she was coming out from behind the front desk. “What do you like to read?”

“I am quite a fan of the urban dictionary.”

Emily laughed, very loud and very suddenly. She covered her mouth with one hand, looking chagrined. “I, uh. Hm. Well, then. I’m afraid that’s an online database only…” She trailed off, looking towards the shelves with a furrowed brow.

Jumin didn’t like the distressed look on her face. “You are a librarian, yes?”

Emily nodded, looking a little uncertain.

“Then recommend me your favorite book.”

She cocked her head in thought before gesturing for him to follow her into the shelves. “That would be _The Night Circus_ by Erin Morgenstern. I know we have a copy in Korean.”

He followed her without hesitation. She was sure in her movements, the top of her head bouncing up and down like she had just come off of a ship. Jumin took a moment to admire the way her feet rolled from heel to toe to create the motion.

When she stopped, he almost bumped into her. He caught himself just in time, and looked up to see her plucking a book with a black spine off the top shelf.

“This is perhaps my single favorite book of all time,” she said, louder than a whisper but not quite normal volume. “It’s absolutely beautiful – from the prose to the setting to the characters to the story. I’ve never read another book quite like it in my life. I want to say it’s poetry but it’s written in prose. It makes me feel the same way poetry does. Like I’ve just witnessed something of immense beauty that I can’t quite understand.”

He took the book from her hands, turning it over to read the back. He wasn’t a fan of magic personally, but he had asked for her favorite book. They began to amble back to the front desk.

“You don’t understand poetry?” he asked?

Emily’s mouth pulled down at the corner – not a frown. More… thoughtful. “I can understand it, sometimes, if I work very hard at it, but it doesn’t come easily to me, no. That being said, I still love it.”

Jumin glanced down at the book in his hands. It wasn’t very thick. He compared it to the book Rika had given him, and decided the two could not be more alike. “Is it possible to love something you don’t understand?”

“Yes.”

He blinked at her back. She hadn’t missed a beat in her response.

“Have you ever heard poetry in Spanish? It’s absolutely divine. I know French gets all the credit for being the ‘language of love’ but there’s just something about Spanish.” She glanced back at him, then fell into step beside him. “Have you every heard Pablo Neruda’s ‘Sonnet XVII’?”

Jumin had a sense that she wanted him to ask. “I haven’t. Do you have the book somewhere?”

She launched into what he assumed was the poem, though he could not be sure. “_Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,/te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:/así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,/sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,/tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,/tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño._”

The words rolled of her tongue, soft and smooth, as the front desk came into view. “Those are only the last two stanzas,” she admitted, “but they’re the best part of the poem.

He stopped in front of one of the empty computers, and Emily returned to her post. “What does it mean?”

A blush dusted her cheeks as she grinned sheepishly. “It means, ‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or where,/ I love you directly without problems or pride:/ I love you that way because I don’t know how to love otherwise/but so in this way that I am not nor are you,/ so close that your hand on my chest is mine,/ so close that your eyes close with my dream.’” She took the book from him. “It’s probably a little forward of me to be reciting love poetry to you when we’ve only just met, but I’ve never been particularly good at keeping my mouth shut.”

Jumin was reeling from her translation, unable to process everything that was happening. “You’ve been leaving lipstick kisses on my wrist for ten years,” he replied, voice a little shaky with something he couldn’t name. “It doesn’t get much more forward than that.”

Her blushed deepened, but she was smiling, and that made him smile. What was happening to him? “Touché. My dad always said I was filled with too much love.” She scanned the book and printing a slip, scribbling something on the back before sticking it into the book. “Here you are. Have a great day!”

He took it, still not sure what was happening. “Should I write you when I finish?”

“I left my phone number on the slip, but if you prefer the letters, that’s fine too.”

The next thing Jumin knew, he was back in the car, staring at the book sitting in his lap and holding the sheet of paper with Emily’s phone number in his hand. A smile was sitting in his face as he committed the numbers to memory.

Then he opened the book, and began to read.

_The circus arrives without warning…_


End file.
